


Supraliminal

by withthepilot



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:51:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthepilot/pseuds/withthepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If John doesn't stop making jokes like that, Chris knows he's going to get them both in trouble. But they're not just jokes, are they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supraliminal

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an _Access Hollywood interview_ in which John keeps laughing and cracking gay jokes because he's supremely uncomfortable.

_Chris, I miss you.... Next to me, there's an imprint in bed where you once were...and it smells of you, and I want you back._

Chris shakes his head with a grimace, idly pushing popcorn into his mouth as he watches the video a second time. Then a third and a fourth. He calls John with a mouth full of food, still chewing when he picks up.

"Dude, seriously," he starts, smacking his lips. "Don't you think you laid it on a little thick?" John immediately sounds perturbed on the other end.

"Dude, are you eating? Did you call me while you were eating? That's so rude."

"It's not as rude as my cock in your mouth."

"Eating during phone sex is even ruder." John exhales and Chris hears some rustling sounds, which he assumes means John is on the move to a private area of his house. Chris leans back in his chair and tries to catch popcorn in his mouth, failing spectacularly. "So, what were you whining about?" John finally asks.

"Your dumbass _Access Hollywood_ interview. In which you practically proposed to me."

"I was amusing myself! Those questions were so stupid. I don't know how to talk to those people. You know, they think they're so funny..."

Chris laughs, crunching on more popcorn. "John, it's your duty to start the campaigns for things that will never happen in a million years. First, you have to rally for a Best Picture nod. Then, you have to get Quinto to eat pussy. These are your missions, should you choose to accept them."

" _Mission: Impossible_ , nice reference. Tom Cruise never had to stop Zach from sniffing out cock. He would have shot himself in the face to end it all."

"True, but let's not change the subject." Chris crosses his legs at the ankles, stretching in his chair as he lazily rubs at the front of his jeans. "You admitted your undying love to me and I'm wondering whether I should be annoyed or flattered."

"Uh huh. As if you're not sitting there and jacking off to the idea of me publicly admitting I have sex with you."

Chris pouts, unzipping his jeans. "I hadn't gotten _that_ far."

"Yeah, okay," John sighs. He actually sounds a little wistful and Chris tilts his head, listening closely. They're always joking with each other, so an actual sign of emotion is somewhat unexpected. "Taunt me from your luxurious hotel room in Pittsburgh, where I can't come over and smack you or fuck your brains out. See if I care."

Chris smiles crookedly at that. "Are you actually admitting you do miss me?"

"No," John immediately replies. "Although I guess I kind of got used to your ugly mug always rubbing itself against my cock."

"Oh, John," he says lowly, and he can swear he hears John's breath catch slightly on the other end in response to his tone. Chris reaches into his jeans and fists his cock, squeezing down the shaft slowly. "I'll be back soon, and I'll be swallowing down your dick again before you know it. Letting you fuck my face, grab my ears...all the nasty things you like, you fucking pervert."

"You're a bitch," John murmurs, but Chris can hear more movement and he knows John is touching himself, too, locked away in a room by himself where no one can find him. Chris spreads his legs and pushes into his grip, running his thumb around the head of his cock and along the pronounced vein repeatedly.

"Romantic," he says, grinning slightly. "Tell me what else you want to do."

"Not _want_ to, _going_ to. As in, I'm _going_ to rub my cock all over your hot-as-shit body. And I'm _going_ to tease your beautiful ass with it until you're begging to be fucked."

"Oh, god, I fucking hate Pittsburgh so much right now," Chris mumbles, dropping his head back. He clutches the phone close to his ear so he can hear John laugh breathlessly on the other end. "I get to fuck you, too, right...?"

"Yeah, of course." John's voice goes a little higher on the last word and Chris recognizes that as a telltale sign that he's touching his balls, teasing himself. John loves that shit. "However you want me."

"I want you on your hands and knees with your ass high in the air," Chris growls.

"Oh, damn," John whispers, the need apparent in his voice. "What are you even—god, Pine, you can't just _say_ shit like that..."

Chris licks his lips and mimics what he suspects John is doing, rolling his balls in the curve of his palm with a grunt. "Unless I plan on following it up? I do. Next time I see you, I want your ass spread and ready for me. _Waiting_."

"Fuck, you've fucking got it, you—ah, _shit_..."

"Fuck, I miss you," Chris murmurs, shutting his eyes tightly as he listens to John's breathing get faster and harsher. He feels his own balls tighten in response and speeds up his hand, groaning when he hears John muffle a cry against his hand. The idea of him trying to be quiet so he doesn't get caught is almost too hot to endure, and Chris spills all over his fingers, his hips bucking off the cushion of the hotel desk chair.

"Lick it clean," John murmurs after a few moments, and Chris moans again, obeying and making the requisite wet sounds that he knows John wants to hear. A quiet sigh of contentment comes through the receiver. "How many more weeks?"

"I dunno, three or four?" Chris says, tucking himself back into his pants. He shrugs. "I may have to come back sooner to stop you from completely outing us with your extremely vocal yearning."

" _You_ yearn," John answers petulantly. " _I_ occasionally think of you in a strictly bromantic way and only fondle myself if the feeling is right."

"Don't you worry, John; soon your bed will reek of me again. And I'll be nestled comfortably in that cold, lonely imprint beside you."

"Yeah, yeah. Keep your noxious gas to yourself."

Chris smiles, sensing that the joking words in John's interview are probably the closest he'll ever get to an admission of real feelings from him. And that's okay—as long as they can talk like this, Chris knows everything he needs to know. He laughs, shaking his head as he bookmarks the video's web page and closes the laptop.

"Dude, call me some time, okay? Unless you prefer to keep sending supraliminal messages in random interviews."

"It suits me, for now."

"Yeah, okay. For now," Chris agrees, fingers wandering over the edge of the laptop, "I suppose it does the trick."


End file.
